


Somewhere

by elecktera



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Bisexual Arthur Morgan, Bisexual John Marston, Canon Compliant, F/M, Hurt Arthur Morgan, M/M, POV John Marston, Post-Video Game: Red Dead Redemption (2010), Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25435423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elecktera/pseuds/elecktera
Summary: *Set during the Red Dead Redemption DLC Undead Nightmare*Death tasted like copper and asphalt.It coated your tongue, thick and unmistakable; made your throat close up like you couldn’t get enough oxygen.He and death were hand in hand.AN: Warning for slight violence and gore?? Nothing is depicted in too much graphic detail, but just a fair warning :)
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Kudos: 29





	Somewhere

John was tired, he always seemed to be these days. He didn’t get much sleep with the inevitable threat of doom lingering over his head. Mostly, he was afraid - afraid of death, afraid of not dying, the latter though, that _terrified_ him. 

He’d been faced with death more times than he could count on his fingers. Death tasted like copper and asphalt. It coated your tongue, thick and unmistakable; made your throat close up like you couldn’t get enough oxygen. He and death were hand in hand.

Death had taken so much from him. Grimshaw, Hosea, Sean, _Arth-._ Death had **required** so much of him. To kill his own brothers, to condemn his own father; who at the ends of their lives had seemed so far from those things. 

But now, death reigned over everything. It hung in the air, putrid and vile, wrapped around your heart, and _squeezed_. How could he sleep when all he could think about was Abigail trying to tear his goddamn throat out like a rabid animal. Hell, Jack even joined her. 

He had begged, pleaded even, for them to stop. His own son and wife were nearly unrecognizable with the way their teeth gnashed against each other until their gums bled under the pressure. The way they clawed wildly against his arms as he chained them together against his and Abigail’s bed. John knew death. He didn’t know this. 

John’s desperation led him North to Ambarino where the population wasn’t so dense. Where the looming stench of something so utterly rotten didn’t cloud his senses every waking moment. 

Rachel was lathered beneath him, a foamy sweat where her girth met her barrel. He had slowed her to a lazy lope, her hooves meeting the ground in a soft “patter.” 

He’d only encountered a few of the _things_ , (whatever they were) since venturing North. Spooked them both well enough, but Rachel was steadfast and dumb enough to only pin her ears back and do as she was told. 

They were nasty. Skin pallid and boils oozing, crusting over yellow. Guts hung low from slashes on their decayed stomachs where the skin had grown too thin. Jagged, yellowed teeth stuck through blood-crusted lips. Eyes dead and sunken into their skulls. 

He hated them - he hated them and yet somehow he _was_ them. He felt just as dead as they looked. 

***********************************************************************************************************

Following the roads into Valentine was risky, too many opportunities to make a mistake. Taking the backroads through New Hanover was his safest bet. 

Limpany’s charred remains creaked low in the wind, Rachel’s ears pricked forward, throwing her head against the bit in a sidestep. 

A deep, pained groan sounded from one of the buildings. John could’ve gone on his way without disturbing the poor bastard, but something akin to pity overwhelmed him. He patted Rachel’s withers once and swung a leg down onto the ground. 

Not hitching her to something risked losing his ride, but he wouldn’t sentence the mare to such a cruel death if a few of the sonsofbitches happened to wander by. So he left her to happily graze by the riverbed. 

Removing his cattleman from her saddle, he trudged his way over to where the noise had come from. The closer he walked, the louder soft rattling of chains and hushed moaning became. 

Amongst the burnt buildings stood a stone jail. Ironic mostly, he supposed. He jarred the door open with his foot, revealing a figure hunched over a mangled deer corpse. It snarled before whipping around animatedly at the sound. John held his cattleman up ready to put the damn thing out of its misery when he saw-

He was gonna be sick, it crawled its way up to his throat dangerously. It curdled in his stomach as dread washed over him. He backed up stumbling over his own feet and landing on his back, his hat landing beside him. Shit, shit, _shit_. 

He sat up as _Arthur_ , god, his Arthur ambled towards him, bloodthirsty and angry. 

“Shit, Art, **fuck**. Please, you gotta be in there somewhere, fuckin’ hell,” He gasped for breath, panic swallowing him whole. 

Arthur’s hair was rotting off, small patches where he had lost all of it entirely. He was missing an eye, but the one that remained was still so blue. His ribs were exposed on his left side where his flesh had decomposed, the remains of his shirt covering whatever else time and this curse had done to him. 

And fuck, Arthur wasn’t stopping, not even hesitating for a second. His growls only grew more aggressive, and the world around John slowed to a standstill. 

He rubbed a knuckle across his eye as he stood quickly. When he pulled it away it was wet, his eyes burning something fierce. This was what it felt like to truly lose control, and it was then he realized that no matter what form he came in, John Marston could never kill Arthur Morgan. 

He smiled sadly as he dropped his gun resigning, “Okay, Art,” the soft " _chunk"_ it made as it hit the ground like a hymn and a prayer. 

John wasn’t one for belief in anything since Dutch. He vowed never to have faith in something so blindly ever again. He had to believe though, that he and Arthur would meet again. Somewhere.

This was what it felt like to fall, believing in Dutch never felt like this. No this- this felt like falling _and_ flying all at once. Even as Arthur ripped him apart, even as he screamed in agony, he knew somewhere Arthur would be there to put him together again. 

*************************************************************************************************

The first thing he noticed was warmth; how it beat across his face. Nothing remotely unpleasant, more soothing than anything. The next thing he noticed was the scratching of grass at his hands laid flat. Where- 

“C’mon, time to wake up partner.” 

And that _voice,_ lord above, that voice. Undoubtedly Arthur’s. Nothing was as saccharine sweet or as warm as Arthur’s voice. 

He cracked an eye open, Arthur was leaning over him, a frown plastered on his face, “You stupid shit!” 

To John, Arthur had never looked so angelic before. Even with smoke pouring from his ears and his brow creased in anger. He sat up slowly, bringing a palm to Arthur’s face. He had to know he was real, not just his brain pulling some sick joke on him as he bled out in fucking _Limpany_ of all places. 

“-Can’t believe you went and let me just- god, John!” Shit, he hadn’t been listening. “I- You’ve always been a fool, John, but pullin’ a stunt like tha-” John crushed his lips to Arthurs, the opportunity sitting right there, and it was _perfect_ , John thought. And real. Yeah, this was as real as it got if the warmth emanating off of the body in front of him was anything to go by. 

“Love you, Art,” John said slowly against his lips. 

“Love you too, ya’ damn bastard.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for the support on the first fic I posted <3 
> 
> I have an editing account whenever I get the chance to  
> if anybody wants to check it out you can find me @cerebuus :) 
> 
> I'm pretty active on there and I'd loveee to talk to some new people!


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